


'cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good

by Duck_Life



Category: New Mutants (Comics)
Genre: Candy, Family, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 08:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19999105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Bobby stresses about meeting Sam's mom, even though he's met her a hundred times.It's nothing a trip to the candy store can't fix.





	'cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good

Lucinda Guthrie keeps looking at him with squinted eyes and pursed lips, opens and closes her mouth a few times like she can't decide whether to say something or not. Roberto steels himself for the uncomfortable questions—  _ You and Sam seem awful close, is there something I oughtta know? Do you and Sam have girlfriends back in San Francisco or…?  _

But when Sam's mom finally speaks, what she says surprises Bobby so much he almost tumbles out of his chair. "Do you wear sunscreen?"

_ What. _ "What?"

Lucinda's face reddens. "Do you wear sunscreen when it's bright out? I just… Ray Jr., my stepson. He's Black, you know, and I never know if I need to be puttin' sunscreen on him before he goes runnin' 'round outside."

Bobby’s so stunned for a second that he doesn’t respond immediately. “Oh,” he says finally. “Right. Uh… so, I don’t wear sunblock. But. That has less to do with my being Black and more to do with the way I absorb and metabolize solar rays.” 

“Oh,” Lucinda says. 

“But, uh,” Bobby says, racking his brain for stuff he’s heard on the beach or by the pool. “Yeah, you should… he should probably wear sunscreen, I think. I mean, just because he doesn’t burn easily doesn’t mean he’s not at risk for like, skin cancer.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lucinda says, nodding. “See, that’s what I thought, and then Jennifer Hodgins made a comment about it a few weeks ago and it got me thinkin’, but you know, she’s always pokin’ her nose where it don’t belong so I probably shouldn’t’ve worried, I think.” 

“Uh-huh,” Bobby says.

“I’m sorry, here I am pestering you with silly questions,” she huffs. Her chair squeaks when she scoots it back from the table. “You must be hungry. Do you want some more cornbread?”

“Mrs. Guthrie, I think I’ve eaten more cornbread in the last three hours than I’ve eaten before in my entire life,” Bobby says. “You’ve got that recipe down to a science. I’m going to have to ask you for it one of these days.”

Lucinda laughs. “The secret ingredient is creamed corn,” she says, which sounds kind of obvious to Bobby but hey, he’s not a chef. 

* * *

Later, after Bobby has really and truly eaten his limit of cornbread (for today, at least), he heads for the porch looking for Sam. As much as he enjoys spending time with the extended Guthrie clan, he does have a favorite Guthrie and it’d be nice to spend time with him on their little vacation. 

Instead of Sam, he finds Ray Jr. sitting on the porch steps. “Hey,” he says, torn between engaging him in a conversation or just asking if he’s seen Sam. 

Ray Jr. kind of shakes, like the swinging screen door hadn’t alerted him to Bobby’s presence on the porch. “Oh. Hi,” he says, craning his neck to look up at Bobby. “Your Sam’s friend, right?” 

“Bobby,” Bobby says, extending his hand. Ray shakes it. “What’re you doing out here? You kids playing manhunt?” Do kids still play manhunt? He and Dani used to be relentless about it once upon a time, but he’s not sure what kinds of games kids get up to these days. 

“No,” Ray says. “I just come out here for a little peace and quiet sometimes.”

“I hear you,” Bobby says. “Sam always said this place could be a real madhouse when everybody got going.” 

“It’s not that,” Ray says. “Just… sometimes when I miss my dad, I come out here to miss him by myself.” 

The rest of the Guthrie kids lost their dad a long time ago, but Ray’s father only died recently. Bobby feels for the kid— he remembers how it felt the night Gideon woke him up to tell him his father had passed away. “Y’know… my dad died a while back,” Bobby says, proving once again that he has utterly no clue how to communicate with children. 

Fortunately, Ray doesn’t seem to hold it against him. “You miss him?”

“Actually… yeah,” Bobby says, kind of surprising himself. “He and I didn’t always get along. I mean, we had our arguments, our differences. But man… I really wish I could talk to him. Wish I could ring him up and ask him what he thinks of… everything.” He sighs. “Yeah, I miss him.” 

Without really thinking about it, Bobby takes a seat on the steps beside Ray Jr. A lazy breeze sends the smell of fresh-cut grass wafting over the two of them. 

“What’s something you used to do with your dad?” Bobby asks.

Ray doesn’t have to think about it. “Every Friday after school, he used to take me to Milton’s Candy and I got to fill up one of those bags… you know the mix-and-match candy bags? And he’d let me get a whole pound of whatever I wanted— jelly beans, Milk Duds, Sour Patch Kids, Swedish Fish, malt balls…” His eyes light up. Bobby can practically hear the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory music. 

“Tell you what,” Bobby says, “what if I took you to Milton’s Candy?” The kid doesn’t respond immediately, and Bobby worries he’s messed up. “Sorry, not to… not to step on yours and your dad’s tradition or anything. Or… I don’t wanna, like, disrespect his memory or…” Crap. He’s so bad at this. 

Ray smiles, though. “Yeah, that would be cool,” he says. His only concern is, “Can Jeb come with?” 

* * *

So Sam and Bobby take Ray Jr. and Jeb into town to load up on sugar and chocolate. “Do you think they have those giant Toblerone bars?” Bobby asks Sam. They’d elected to take the pickup because Bobby’s convertible was parked in, and the boys are back in the truck bed. 

“You mean the ones that are taller than you?” Sam asks as the truck bounces over the dirt road leading from the Guthrie farm. “Not hard to do. I reckon they got Twizzlers taller’n you.” 

“Screw you!” Bobby says lightly, elbowing him. Sam just laughs and turns up the Dusty Springfield song on the radio. It’s not the first time he’s come out to the Guthrie farm, but it is the first time since he and Sam officially got together. Trying to cheer Ray Jr. up at least gives him something to do besides waiting for Paige or Lucinda or Lizzie to wise up and realize what’s what between him and Sam. 

“Man, I don’t even remember the last time I went to Milton’s Candy,” Sam says, drumming his fingers on the car door. “Daddy used to get a big bag of jelly beans and Paige would pick out all the buttered popcorn ones and only eat those.” 

“I like the pear-flavored ones,” Bobby says. 

Sam gets a wicked grin. “Hey, ask Jeb what his favorite jelly beans are.” 

Bobby sticks his head out the window. “Jeb!”

“Yeah?”

“Which jelly beans do you like?”

“Black licorice!” Jeb calls back.

Bobby screams like he’s seen a demon and yanks his head back into the car. “You’re related to that?!” he shrieks, putting a hand to his chest like he’s clutching pearls. “That kid can’t be trusted.” 

“He likes candy corn, too,” Sam smiles. “Kid’s a menace. Don’t worry. The rest of the family’s normal.” The tires turn up a cloud of dust behind them as Sam pulls into town. He finds a parking spot around the corner from the candy store and they all hop out. “We didn’t lose anyone, did we?” Sam jokes, putting a hand on Jeb’s head and one on Ray Jr.’s like he’s counting. “All good? Let’s go.”

Milton’s Candy has a little bell that jingles when Bobby walks through the door. The scent that hits him is heavenly— sugary sweetness all combined into a tasty, tantalizing aroma. A glass case near the back of the store features a wide array of freshly made fudge, taffy and peanut brittle. 

“ _ Madre de Dios _ …” he mumbles.

“Move it, you’re blockin’ the door,” Sam says, nudging him out of the way. He ushers the boys in. Jeb goes straight for the jelly beans but Ray Jr. takes his time, looking around at each of the displays of candy. 

“Oh my God, is that Sammy Guthrie?” the woman behind the counter says, squinting over her glasses. “Good Lord! You grew into those ears.” 

Sam laughs even as his face turns pink. “Hi, Mrs. Milton.” 

“Who’s your friend?” 

“This is Bobby,” Sam says, moving a hand to Bobby’s shoulder. He immediately feels self-conscious. The candy store owner said  _ friend _ , but what if she knows? What if she figures it out? Bobby’s just waiting for the smile to slide off of Mrs. Milton’s face, for her to notice the way Sam’s got his hand on Bobby’s shoulder and just  _ figure it out _ . 

But all she does is smile and say, “Nice to meet you, Bobby. You want a fudge sample?” 

He does want one. 

It’s delicious. 

Jeb picks out a whole bag of black jelly beans because he’s a monster. Ray Jr. fills his bag with a colorful array of gummy orange slices, old-fashioned gumdrops and rock candy. Sam gets Swedish Fish and Bobby buys a block of fudge. 

“It was real good seein’ you boys,” Mrs. Milton calls when they’re on the way out. “Tell your mama hi for me, okay?” 

“I will,” Sam promises, offering a parting wave, and then they’re out in the street again. 

Bobby is quiet on the ride back to the Guthrie farm. In the truck bed, Jeb and Ray Jr. are working their way toward a severe sugar rush. Sam sings along to Willie Nelson as he takes the old truck back along the dirt roads. 

When they get to the house, Jeb and Ray Jr. hop down from the truck bed. “Hey, don’t let Cissie or Lewis see what you got,” Sam tells them. “Make sure you eat your candy away from them, okay? Maybe we’ll take the others to Milton’s tomorrow or something, but till then… okay?”

“Got it,” Jeb says, racing off to the treehouse in the backyard. 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Ray Jr. says, grinning at him before tearing off after his brother. 

Bobby settles into his seat, not quite ready to go in the house. “Swedish Fish?” Sam offers. He takes it and finds it almost impossible to chew. Or maybe that’s just his nerves. “Bobby, are you okay?” 

He wastes time chewnig his Swedish Fish so he doesn’t have to answer right away. But, finally, Bobby says, “No. I don’t know. I’m… Sam, it’s like I keep waiting for something to go wrong.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam sighs. “That’s X-Men life for ya.” 

“No, no, not like that,” Roberto says. “Like. I’m worried your mom hates me. Back there, I was worried Mrs. Milton was gonna… I don’t know, figure it out. I hate feeling this jumpy.” 

“Oh.”

“You don’t feel that?” Bobby realizes he was sort of hoping Sam would just understand, without him having to say it. 

Sam shrugs. “I grew up here. I know everyone.” 

“Maybe that’s it,” Bobby says. “It’s not just you introducing me to your family. It’s like you’re introducing me to the whole town.”

“Man, my family has known you since you were fifteen,” Sam reminds him. 

“Yeah, but it’s different now,” Bobby says. “I’m different.  _ We’re _ different.” 

“Well, yeah.” Sam slides his hand into Bobby’s, runs a thumb over his knuckles. “Look, I know we decided we weren’t gonna tell anybody, but would it make you feel better if we did? We could start small, tell Paige. Totally your call.”

Bobby shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, maybe I’m just being irrational.”

“No, hey.” Sam puts a hand under his chin and tugs him closer, looks at him. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.” They kiss, quick, because it’s barely dusk and it’s still light out and anybody could see. “As far as they know, you’re my best friend. And they all adore you.”

“Of course they do, I’m delightful,” Bobby mumbles. 

“There you go,” Sam laughs, popping a Swedish Fish in his mouth. “Seriously, though— it’s okay that you’re worried, but you don’t have to be.” 

“I know, I know,” Bobby says, running a hand through his curls. “Okay. We can go in now.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah,” Bobby says, collecting his fudge and opening the truck door. “I need some more o’ that… that apple pie moonshine. That shit was  _ awesome _ .” 

“We’ll bring some home,” Sam promises, cutting the engine and getting out. Bobby follows him to the front door. Things aren’t perfect, and they aren’t always easy, but Bobby can handle it, maybe. He’s got cornbread, fudge and moonshine. 

He’ll be fine. 


End file.
